text & photography by Derek Clark

“They shall not grow old, as we that are left grow old Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn At the going down of the sun and in the morning We shall remember them, lest we forget”

On the 11th day of the 11th month each year, they gather on the red square surrounded by sandstone buildings more than a century old. Some wear their medals proudly over the heart, while others display medals of the absent. With only the tweet of birds, they stand in silence to remember the fallen.

“Still the dark stain spreads between their shoulder blades A mute reminder of the poppy fields and graves When the fight was over, we spent what they had made, but… In the bottom of our hearts we felt the final cut”